


Holiday Cheer

by Hazelmist



Category: Broadchurch
Genre: F/M, One Shot, Post S3, Ugly Holiday Sweaters, hardy x miller
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-17
Updated: 2017-12-17
Packaged: 2019-02-16 07:22:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13049268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hazelmist/pseuds/Hazelmist
Summary: Hardy avoids holiday parties, crowded pubs, blinking lights, and Christmas music at all costs, but then Miller makes him an offer he can’t refuse. Miller x Hardy post S3.





	Holiday Cheer

**Author's Note:**

> Hardy x Miller months after S3. Not meant to be taken too seriously, just some holiday fun.

The annual holiday party was a tradition that DI Hardy hated. The parties at Sandbrook had been legendary, which was why Hardy had always made a point of avoiding them. Broadchurch was no different, if not worse because of the disgustingly small town nature of them. Last year, a fist fight had erupted between two heavily intoxicated PCs in the car park, resulting in two counts of drunk and disorderly conduct and a broken window. Hardy had been forced to suspend them. Although it seemed impossible to top, Hardy had very low expectations for the party currently underway at the local pub he was standing outside. 

The fact that Miller was already rosy cheeked, tipsy and hell-bent on getting him inside wasn’t improving his mood. 

“Come on, Hardy, just one drink,” she cajoled him, hugging herself against the cold. 

She’d texted him eight times, called him twice and left him a threatening voicemail before she finally explained that the office had a bet riding on him not going. Hardy didn’t bloody care until Ellie added that SOCO Brian was going to lose fifty pounds if he made an appearance. 

“What happens if I do have a pint?” he hedged. 

Miller smiled a little too widely. 

“I get half of your winnings,” he growled, “And you’re buying.” That wiped the smirk off of her face, but he held the door for her and ushered her back into the warmth of the pub. 

The god awful Christmas music hit him like a migraine and the holiday décor was horribly tacky and sad looking. Ropes of garland had been hung with good intentions behind the bar but they were shedding needles in a way that violated several health codes. Colorful lights were blinking on and off in a manner that could surely cause a seizure, and the sparkling fake tree in the corner was a monstrosity that Hardy couldn’t adequately describe. Hardy wasn’t normally a drinker, but the cheery atmosphere and the sight of so many inebriated co-workers in hideous wool sweaters made him want one. 

Miller was taking too bloody long, leaning over the sticky bar to laugh at something the barkeeper said. Hardy watched her, well aware that he wasn’t the only one and that some of the noise had died down in light of his presence. They worked long hours together, and Miller had made late night visits to his house that had done nothing to squash the rumors of people with nothing better to speculate about in this boring little town. Tonight, she did look nice in her red blouse, at least until she turned around and he was once again assaulted with the blinking necklace. Just one drink and then he was getting the hell out of here. 

“Lighten up, Hardy,” Miller said brightly, handing him his beer. “Someone bought our drinks and tomorrow we’ll be twenty-five pounds richer than Brian.”

“Cheers,” he deadpanned and swallowed down a pale ale that wasn’t completely terrible. 

The party wasn’t that bad either, not while he was tucked into a booth with Miller. They talked about how Daisy was handling her first year at Uni, Tom was growing up too fast, and how Fred had already gotten into the Christmas presents and was driving her father crazy. One drink had turned into two, people had left, and the battery for Miller’s cheap necklace had died before Hardy remembered he only had to stay for one. 

“It’s late, we’d best be getting home.” Miller was only slurring her words a little, but it was enough for Hardy to offer to drive her car. “You want to take me home?” she teased him as he helped her into her coat since she couldn’t seem to find the sleeves. “Imagine what everyone will say tomorrow,” she giggled. 

“Nothing they haven’t already said about us,” he pointed out as she tripped over the end of her scarf. Sighing, he stopped and wound the fuzzy thing around her neck before she ruined it. The motion brought them into closer contact, close enough that he noticed a bit of glitter in her curls. He brushed back her hair and she startled. 

“You’re sparkling,” he explained. 

“Must’ve been Rodney,” she laughed, shaking out her curls. “He gave me a hug earlier and you saw his sweater.”

Hardy tried to remember who Rodney was and came up with a blank. Whoever he was, Hardy was certain that he did not like him.

“We went out for a drink a few months back,” Miller slipped in casually, smiling. “Nice guy, really funny.” 

Scratch that, Hardy _despised_ the man. 

“You never told me that,” he huffed as he followed her out into the cold. 

“You never tell me when _you_ ’re going on a date.” 

“Because you always know!” he complained, pulling the door shut behind them. He should have felt better now that he’d escaped the warbling of Mariah Carey and his intoxicated co-workers, but he was somehow more exposed in the open air with his attractive DS. 

“I’m a detective,” Miller reminded him, eyes twinkling. Hardy crossed his arms over his chest and faced her. 

“Are you - are you dating him?” he asked gruffly. 

“Oh, honestly, Hardy.” She rolled her eyes. “I wasn’t breaking any rules.” 

“Are you still dating him?” he repeated himself slowly and clearly, because her love life had never been any of his business until right now. 

“No, it was just a couple of drinks,” she sighed as if maybe she wished it had gone differently, before adding, “No different from what we were doing tonight.”

Hardy didn’t argue with her.

“Why do you care anyway?” she wondered, sounding more curious than annoyed. 

“I don’t,” he lied, although he did care, a lot more than he was willing to admit. He cleared his throat and jammed his hands into his pockets. “Just making sure someone’s not going to sucker-punch me for taking you home.” 

Miller snorted and patted his arm. “Trust me, Hardy, you’re in no danger. I haven’t got any potential suitors.” 

“You sure ‘bout that?” 

She tripped over her own feet and Hardy caught her by the elbow. Hauling her up beside him, he wrapped a steadying arm around her shoulders. 

“’m fine,” she insisted, blushing. “Bit slippery back there.” 

“Aye, surely,” he agreed drily, and she smacked him. She lost her balance again and Hardy tightened his arm around her. He suspected that she wouldn’t be wearing those high heels out anytime in the future; which was a shame, he rather liked how she’d towered over some of their male co-workers and she was nearly on eyelevel with him.

“You looked nice tonight,” he complimented her, when they were rounding the stationhouse. 

“You’re so full of shit,” she scoffed, sniggering, “You _hated_ my necklace.” 

“You look good in red. ‘Sides, the necklace wasn’t as bad as some of those sweaters,” he countered, and mentally shuddered at the memory. He’d never be able to look at some of his co-workers after tonight.

“Oh, my god, you should’ve seen Maureen’s. If you thought Rodney’s was bad,” she started babbling about what everyone was wearing, and he was only half listening. The stairs were a bit treacherous for her, and finding her keys was quite the production. Eventually Hardy propped her up against the car and dug the keys out of her pocketbook himself. 

“You sure you’re not drunk?” she asked, when he opened the car door for her and waited for her to get in. 

“I only had two.”

“I know but all night you’ve been acting…” she trailed off, hesitating.

“What?” he snapped. 

“You’re being too polite,” she blurted out and then hastily back peddled, “Not that you’re ever mean, but usually you’re more grouchy, and tonight you’re acting like – like-” she broke off frustrated and motioned to the car door that he was holding open for her. “I feel like we’re on a date, which is ridiculous because I had to _bribe_ you before you’d have a drink with me.” 

Hardy said the first thing that came to mind. 

“Did you want it to be a date?” 

“What?” she spluttered. “No. _No_.” 

She clambered into the car, yanking the door shut. Hardy stood there, dumbfounded, and then went around to the driver’s side and got in. It was an awkward drive home, but Hardy didn’t say a word when Miller fiddled with the radio until she landed on another bloody Christmas song. She hummed along as if she’d already forgotten about their argument. Hardy found it oddly soothing. 

“I wouldn’t mind getting another drink with you,” he said once they’d pulled into her drive. 

“Oh, my god,” she gasped, “you are drunk.”

“No, ‘m not.” He switched off the car and turned in his seat to look at her. “Millah, ‘m not drunk.”

“I’ve asked you plenty of times to go down to the pub with me and every single time you said no.” 

“I know.” He raked a hand through his hair and sighed. “’s not really my area,” he admitted, “’m a bit of a bore. Not as fun as Rich.” 

“Rodney,” she corrected him and he nodded. “You could loosen up a bit, you are a bit of a grump sometimes,” she acknowledged, “But so am I,” she added, her lips twitching. 

“I owe you a drink,” he offered, but she smiled and shook her head at him like she had that day he’d first mistakenly rejected her.

“It’s okay, Hardy I get it now.”

“Millah.” He clasped her shoulder and looked her in the eye. “I want to.” Miller’s eyes rounded as he rubbed circles over her shoulder blade. “Do you want to get a drink with me?” he asked her softly. 

“On one condition,” she said, reaching into her coat, “You have to wear this.” She tugged out the festive necklace and turned it on. Green and red pinpricks of light flickered weakly and flashed at random, and it was so _her_ that Hardy was hard pressed not to smile.

“No,” he snorted, sliding his arm around her to get at the tiny battery pack. “Absolutely not.”

“Oh, come on, Hardy,” she pleaded with him. 

“It looks much better on you,” he told her whilst searching for the off switch. 

Miller grinned, shining brighter than any silly holiday decoration. Hardy didn’t bother turning the lights off. He slid his hand into her hair and leaned in to kiss her chastely. He meant for it to be a brief kiss goodnight, something they could continue when she was hopefully sober, but Miller had other ideas. Wrapping her arms around him, she deepened the kiss and erased any doubts that she might change her mind about this tomorrow. 

A blissful minute passed, before the technicolor lights and the jingle coming from her chest became too much for him.

“Please tell me that’s your necklace,” he groaned. 

“It plays Christmas tunes!” Miller gushed breathlessly, “You must’ve fixed the setting when you were trying to-”

“Kiss you?” he pointedly reminded her by reclaiming her lips, “How ‘bout we save the battery for next time.” 

Miller giggled into his mouth and he smiled into the kiss, finally turning the damn thing off.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked it! :)


End file.
